A Game of Stairs
by TridentZero
Summary: The Four Kingdoms of Northlynn are in peril as they fight to keep not only the realm together but their homes as well. Corruption on the Lapis Throne, threat of attack from the Ice Plains of the south, and the possible return of an old enemy. A "semi-parody" of A Game of Thrones


The following is a Minecraft fanfiction "parody" of A Game of Thrones. Parody is in quotations as it will not follow the story exactly but simply takes elements from it and puts it into a Minecraft setting. Like the real books there will be adult themed language but due to it being in Minecraft there will be a lack of sexual themes, so that is not a worry. I hope you guys enjoy this. If you see any mistakes or have any ideas, let me know.

Also, take note that this Minecraft story takes place in the future with no version number mentioned, so I might add things that I think should be in the game that aren't already and that may be in the future.

**A GAME OF STAIRS**

**MATHIS**

He spawned in the dead of night in the middle of a snowstorm. All around him was snow and dark and hills. Even with the map of the server's world on his desk he could not find where he was. The server's random spawn system had placed him somewhere in a barren ice field far from anything.

_This was the worst possible spawn_, he thought to himself. It was incredibly unlucky and he knew that he was unlikely to survive his first night in the midst of the frozen plain with no trees or shelter. The server being set to a form of hardcore made it worse as there was no respawing after death. And he really did not want to die. The server was the most popular Minecraft server in the world and had been for several real world years. He wanted to play on it for at least a few days.

The only thing to do in his situation was to walk until he could find either a tree or some sort of civilization, of course with the latter he would have to worry about it being a bandit encampment or a wary town that would kill a newspawn on sight.

Upon walking for several minutes he came to the top of a medium sized bluff and spied a pair of zombies down below with one holding an iron sword. Knowing that he could never take them on with his bare hands, and he did not want to sprint and waste his hunger, he dug down several blocks into the ground and sealed himself in a dirt tomb to wait for sunrise.

It was not three minutes later when he heard the sound of walking just above his head. There was no moaning or clinking or the hissing of a spider so he knew that it was not a monster. "Ya mate, I saw 'im dig 'round 'ere," a voice called from atop the dirt block. It was a player using the Teamspeak-like voice chat system required of all players on the server, a sound that scared him even more than any monster. To hear another player you had to be within ten blocks of them and that meant that the player was right near him.

The instant the dirt block above his head was shattered he knew his life was over. "Eh, look at this! 'e ain't even got any armour!," the player said and he looked up into his soon-to-be killer's face. "What's your name, mate?"

"Why you askin' 'im 'is name for? Just kill 'im and let's get the hell out of 'ere!," another voice called from just out of his sight.

"Well maybe we can get somefin' out of 'im. You know, like a ransom," the first player said and looked back down the hole. "C'mon. Out of the 'ole," the player said and he reluctantly built his way out of the hole with the dirt blocks he had collected.

"Look at 'im. It's just a bloody newspawn. Ain't nobody gonna give no ransom for him."

"What's your name?," the first player asked him again.

"Uh…," he forgot that he needed to think of a name for himself. The server disabled nametags to force players to create their own names. Names could be anything, as long as they didn't have numbers and were easy to pronounce. "Mathis," he said when he had come up with one.

"Mafis of?" the first player asked and Mathis turned his head slightly to see the other player through the blinding snow. He found that a bow was trained on his head.

"Of?"

"Yeah. Mafis of House so-and-so? Mafis of such-and-such realm? Anyfing?," the first player asked.

"I told you let's just kill 'im!" the second player said and Mathis noticed for the first time the mismatched leather armour they both wore, each piece was a different colour.

Bandits. He had read about them on the server's forums. Apparently they were becoming a problem in certain areas of the world, especially on the continent they called Northlynn. It was apparently a continent covered in cold and icy biomes, so he assumed that he had spawned there and was facing the problem himself.

"Alright, alright. Sorry, mate. Can't 'ave ya runnin' off and tellin' people we's here, ya know. And some day you might 'come competition for us." the first bandit said and approached him with blade ready. "Brace yo'sel-," a flaming arrow stopped his swing and knocked him back to the side of his friend. "'oly fuck I'm on fire!" the bandit cried and ran around his friend until the flames had subsided.

"Who da fuck shot 'im?" the second bandit cried and was answered with another flaming arrow striking him in the head. Within a few seconds of burning the bandit burst with his items falling to the ground.

"'oly shit! Jemin!" the first bandit cried at the sight of his friend's death.

"I only meant to maim. It would seem that my bow is too powerful for a mere gruntling of a brigand," another player said as he rode up out of the snow on the back of a pure black horse. The player was dressed in pure black dyed armour and an iron helmet and his horse was sporting gold armour. "But it would seem that you survived my shot somehow, so you get the pleasure of being taken to the Border. What you do there, whether is is be our prisoner, become one of us, or be executed, is up to you."

"Ah, you bloody black sheep! Fuck yo' Border and fuck you! I ain't goin' back to tat crumblin' ol' stack a stones!," the bandit answered and ran at him with his iron sword.

"And your fate is sealed," the player in black said, right before firing a single arrow. The bandit exploded just as the last had. "Fools. Every one of them," he said, and turned to Mathis. "Now. What to do with you, newspawn?"

"Are you going to kill me?," Mathis asked.

"It is not the duty of the Moon's Eyes to slaughter defenseless newspawns. What is your name?"

"Mathis. I don't have a home or a name like that."

"Hmm," the other player said and thought for a moment. "At the least I can get you to safety. The Border is just North of here, but I don't think that's a place for you. You belong in some city, at least until you figure things out," he said, and turned around to face North. "About a days walk on foot this way is Fort Coldiron, a fort belonging to Lord Whitestone. You'll be safe there and they should be able to fix you up with armour, weapons, and food at the very least. Arc Whitestone is probably the only lord in this world that I trust, so I expect the same of his men."

"Lord?," asked the newspawn.

"Newspawn and you haven't looked up anything about the server? Hmm. Well, while I would not necessarily call this an role playing server, it is in a way. Though it formed this way from necessity over the years.

"After a great war hundreds of years ago,… on this server we refer to one day in the real world to a year in the game, a kingdom was set up in each biome to help rule them and stop uprisings. Then only about three hundred years ago the kingdoms were dissolved so that only one king ruled a continent and the former kings of the individual biomes became lords."

"So, like Game of Thrones?," Mathis asked.

Despite not being able to see the other players face he could tell he had smiled due to the tone in his voice. "In certain respects. Now, let's hurry on towards Coldiron. I'll tell you more about the server on the way."


End file.
